


Friends With Benefits

by Mackem



Series: Imaginary Advent Calendar 2012 [20]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Handcuffs, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 19:28:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mackem/pseuds/Mackem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles likes to give presents to his friends. Lydia doesn't want him getting the wrong idea. Stiles...doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends With Benefits

**Author's Note:**

> Every year, I write what I call my Imaginary Advent Calendar, where each day until December 25th I open another day of an advent calendar that doesn’t exist and write what I picture various people or characters in different shows/fandoms/books in a holidays context. This year I’ve challenged myself to write a ficlet for every day. See Vicky panic! They’ll be in various different fandoms and pairings, and won’t be particularly long (except the ones that eat my brain). Enjoy! X!
> 
> Teen Wolf, again! Who'd have thought? I just like the idea of Lydia owning the hell out of Stiles. Because she would!

It's not dating, and he knows that. Lydia has been perfectly clear about what they have, and what they don't have.

What they _have_ is a sort of friends-with-benefits situation with her in complete control, where Stiles does what he's told and thanks her kindly for it.

What they _don't_ have is a relationship.

Their arrangement is definitely a step forward, as far as he‘s concerned. He knows Lydia doesn’t feel the same way he does, but he also appreciates that she’s been open and honest about that from the start. 

She approached him, of course; she’s single and she has needs, she told him with all of her usual confidence, while he openly gaped at her. She needs a guy who is willing to listen to orders and let her take control. Does he, perhaps, need a girl who can own him single-handedly and maybe find a way to make him relax for once?

Stiles does. Stiles _really_ does.

Lydia’s never explained precisely how she figured out Stiles was into, y’know, being dominated. He’s never told anybody, that’s for sure. When he asked, she just smiled fondly and cooed, “Did you really think you‘d hidden it from me?” before guiding his head back between her legs. He’s pretty sure at least fifty per cent of his attraction to her comes from the way she can take control of a situation so effortlessly; whether that situation is a debate in their English class, or a clumsy, graceless boy trying endlessly to get her attention.

So maybe Stiles doesn’t get to call Lydia his girlfriend. Maybe that’ll happen one day, and maybe it won’t. He can deal with that. What he does get is to call her Mistress sometimes, and he’s more than happy with that.

Still, “friends-with-benefits” still suggests that they are, y'know, _friends_ , so when she's sitting naked astride his eager cock, having worked herself to climax around him for the second time, he distracts himself from coming without permission by blurting, "What do you want for Christmas?"

"Hmm?" She looks down at him, her face the picture of serenity in a way that's completely unfair. Whenever he comes he's sure he must look like a Picasso painting in comparison. "You're speaking."

"I'm _kind of_ known for it?"

"Did I give you permission to speak?" she asks pointedly.

"No, but," he struggles, flushing suddenly. "You didn't gag me, so I assumed -"

"- which was your first mistake," she says, with a neat flick of her hair. He blinks up at her, transfixed as she makes herself more comfortable atop him, settling down until he is completely sheathed in her cunt. She sighs, and gives him a teasing smile as she gently circles her clit with the pad of one finger. He’s learned she likes how hypersensitive her body is just after orgasm; Lydia‘s not one for lounging back after an orgasm when she could be chasing another. "You can ask one question, if you want to, but I'll add another ten minutes onto the time before you're allowed to come. Your choice."

He groans, torn, and she picks that moment of indecision to raise herself and rock back down onto his desperate prick. Since they started this game, Lydia has taught him more patience and restraint than he ever thought he could have. He reaches for it now to stop himself coming as she fucks herself with his dick, his teeth chewing raggedly at his lower lip. He will not let himself disappoint Lydia.

"No?" she asks curiously, a teasing smirk on her face as she watches him trembling. She likes to see him come apart under her guidance. Stiles thinks maybe she appreciates how strong, how powerful he makes her feel by submitting to her. He is all too glad to give up control to Lydia. "Your question isn't so important after all, hmm?" 

"It is!" he complains. He groans as she reaches for her phone and pointedly increases the time he has to wait from seven minutes to seventeen on the timer she has running. "Augh, are you sure you even want me around for that long?"

"I think I can cope," she grins. "One question, Stiles. Nothing else."

Stiles cannot help but whine; he thumps his head back against the mattress in frustration. If his hands were free they would be grabbing at air as he shapes his thoughts; as it is, they just twist fruitlessly in the cuffs, pinned above his head. "Fine, fine, I just - what do you want for Christmas?"

Her eyes widen in definite surprise. "Pardon?" His anguished look gets her sighing impatiently and tweaking his nipples. "Oh for god‘s sake, you can speak."

"For Christmas," he repeats as soon as he‘s allowed. "I want to get you something but you have, like, _everything_ , so I thought it'd be better if you just told me."

She blinks. "No."

"C'mon," he wheedles, and gives his handcuffs a pointed rattle with a grin. "You like to tell me what to do!"

"Stiles -"

"- I mean, I can just buy you something I think you'll like, but it seems pretty likely that I'll get you something you already -”

"- Stiles, _no_ ," Lydia says flatly. To his surprise she climbs off him and fiddles with the handcuffs, releasing his wrists. He can’t help but notice she’s avoiding his gaze. Stiles sits up, anxiety suddenly spiking as she moves away and pulls her robe on, pulling it tight around herself. He covers his dick with his hands, suddenly self-conscious in front of her for the first time in months.

"What?" he asks dumbly. "Lydia, what did I do? You said I could ask -"

"- you know this isn't dating," she snaps sharply. "I don't need gifts. I'm not your girlfriend."

"I know that," he protests, his cheeks heating in embarrassment. "I got that when you turned me down for the thousandth time, believe me."

"I think maybe you've forgotten what we're doing," Lydia says, her arms crossed in front of her breasts defensively. "It's just _sex_ , Stiles. We have some fun, we both get off, and that's _it_."

She tosses his clothes to him and he starts to pull them on with trembling fingers. "I know that," he protests, staring down at himself as he dresses. "I know you don't feel…I know we're not dating, okay? I get that. I never wanted to suggest - I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I - I just thought -"

"- you should go," Lydia says firmly. She softens as his face falls, momentarily crushed by her words. "I mean we‘re done for today, Stiles. Not forever.”

“Oh. But -”

“- but you shouldn't get me any gifts,” she adds tightly. “I won't be getting _you_ anything."

"I know," Stiles mumbles. "You don't have to. That's not what I meant. I just wanted to get something for _you_. That's all."

"Stiles, no. _Please_. I won't take anything from you that I can't give back," Lydia murmurs, with a small, hesitant smile.

Stiles lets himself out, feeling small and stupid as he walks barefoot from her house with his shoes held in his hands, and his dick still hard in his pants.

***

The thing is, though, Stiles has never been able to let things lie. Especially not when they're things he doesn't agree with.

He also just likes to see people smile. Stiles doesn't get _much_ of an allowance and he really doesn't have time to have a job, what with studying and pack research duties and finding time to sleep and eat and _breathe_ , so it's not like he can afford to get anything much for people.

Still. He has a Christmas savings account he's kept all year, squirreling a little away every few weeks until he has enough to get his friends something small.

He's added Allison to his list, because he kind of adores her. It's pretty easy to see why Scott is in love with her. He's got a little something for Derek, too; he doesn't expect anything back from him, but he thinks if anybody needs something to make him smile at Christmas, it's the last remaining Hale. Creepy undead uncle aside.

So it's not like he's heaping presents on one and all. But it still feels wrong, not wrapping any for Lydia.

Then an idea strikes.

***

Stiles takes a deep, calming breath in before he knocks on her door. Then he lets it all out in an embarrassing squeak when she opens it.

“Stiles,” she says in surprise, and looks him up and down. “I don’t think we had anything arranged?”

“No, we didn’t,” he says, and swallows before plastering on a smile. “Christmas eve surprise!”

Her expression hardens immediately. “I hope you’re not here to give me a present? I _specifically_ said -”

“- no, nope, empty handed, see?” Stiles interrupts hurriedly, and holds his hands out in an exaggerated shrug. “No gifts, I promise! I do whatever you tell me, right?”

“Right,” Lydia says slowly. She’s still giving him a suspicious stare. “So why are you here?”

Stiles shuffles his feet, but forces himself to meet her gaze and offers a lopsided smile. “I thought - well, no, I _remembered_ that time you were, um, crying? In your car? And I told you to wait and that I’d be right back?”

“And then you vanished?” Lydia adds sharply. Stiles offers a sheepish chuckle.

“And now I’m back?” he offers. She purses her lips at him.

“Explain.”

“You wanted to talk. You kind of wanted to talk a lot, and it never happened,” he mumbles. “Life got in the way of it. Um. So I decided…you have to make time, right? Which is why I’m here.”

“You want me to talk,” Lydia says slowly. Stiles shrugs, hands shoved into his pockets.

“I want you to know you _can_ talk. To me. Whenever you want, I mean, it doesn’t have to be now! But whenever you want, whenever you’re ready,” he promises, and chances a look up at her face. “I’ll listen, no running away, no other priorities.”

“Stiles,” Lydia murmurs. There’s definitely a hint of a smile playing at her lips. “Why? I told you, we’re not -”

“- I know we’re not,” Stiles sighs, then smiles at her, hope and worry twined together. “But we _are_ friends. Right?”

There is a long moment of silence before Lydia returns his smile, and his anxiety melts away. “Right,“ she nods, and steps aside from the door. “Come in, Stiles. Let’s talk.”


End file.
